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Page 494
lifted to Ian's. "You never intended to drive me out, did you?"
"Of course not, you fool! What sort of idiot do you think I am to be the instrument of beginning a war in which Llewelyn had a right to summon me, which might rage for years, bringing in the kingwho also has a right to summon me! To which would I go?"
Sir Peter shrugged. "Lord Gwenwynwyn has played me like a poor fish." He sighed, and his eyes dropped to the floor again. "My tale is done, and I am done also."
Clumsily, like a man whose muscles protest against what his mind forces upon them, Sir Peter knelt. Ian looked down at him. A single blow of the sword he carried bare in his hand would solve the problem of a disloyal castellan. But was the man disloyal? Stupid, yes, but death seemed an excessive punishment for stupidity, especially in this case. Lord Gwenwynwyn was by no means stupid; he was a very clever and devious man. He had known exactly how to play this poor fish.
Besides, Ian thought, how could he explain their leader's death to the men-at-arms who would, within hours probably, need to fight a much stronger force. They believed he had been sick. Their faith would be sorely shaken if Sir Peter suddenly disappeared, as well as his squires and brother-in-law. Had the man planned this? Was Sir Peter a clever archvillain rather than a poor fish? Ian looked down at him. He could not believe it. There was nothing, nothing even to hint at such brilliant deviousness. The chances Sir Peter had taken, was taking at this moment, were far too great. After all, had Ian been stupid, he would have killed him out of hand.
"I beg you, my lord, strike," Sir Peter pleaded, shaking with dry sobs. "I have done you a great wrong, but is my life not payment enough? Do not torture me."
"Oh, stand up, you ass," Ian exclaimed irritably, "and stop making me out as much of a fool as you. Do you think I would kill you now, just before a battle?

 
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